


The Scintillating Salaciousness Column

by LonelyAgain



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Newspapers, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Randy Dowager Quarterly, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyAgain/pseuds/LonelyAgain
Summary: Lady Lotte's take on social drama in Orlais.  Each chapter is one column, completely separate from other "issues".
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Risque Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An irregular column in The Randy Dowager Quarterly. All the latest in gossip, of course, and not for delicate ears.
> 
> I give you: Lady Lotte.

Oh, dear readers. Such news I have for you this day. Last night, as the bells tolled ten, a scuffle was seen at the home of no less than our dear Comtesse d’Arnee. A man, barefaced and bare everything else, was spotted climbing down the trellis from an upper window, carrying his clothing in his arms. It seems the Comte returned home too soon, and discovered the gentleman in flagrante delicto! 

Dear readers, dear readers, one might assume that the window from which our delicious rogue fled would be the Comtesse’s. Perhaps even that of one of their two lovely daughters, who have shown so little interest in the season this year. Not so, my lovelies. The Comte was just that evening coming to visit his MOTHER, and found her otherwise occupied by a young lord a third of her own age! The shouting alone carried over the street, a truly egregious break in decorum on all parties.

From the view, I must assume that some lady will be getting very lucky this season, to be wed to this fine fellow, whomever he may be. I wish them a  _ long _ luna de miel, with a  _ thick  _ itinerary. The bravery displayed was quite passionate, and he kissed his hand to his sweetheart just as he cleared the fence.

Be grateful, dear reader, that the Comte d’Arnee is not so excellent a shot with the crossbow, for otherwise this daring rapscallion would be lost to us.

Until next time, from the desk of Lady Lotte


	2. Choice Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An irregular column in The Randy Dowager Quarterly. All the latest in gossip, of course, and not for delicate ears.
> 
> I give you: Lady Lotte.

For those of you who were fortunate enough not to receive an invitation to Lady Wiscotte’s latest attempt at a fete, have I got some news for you. Firstly, who would have thought anyone would pair tablecloths that shade of lavender with napkins of burnt ochre? Truly egregious, truly, and likely done only to showcase the embroidery of the Wiscotte crest, displayed three inches high on three corners of the tawdry things.

The assault to the eyes didn’t end there, oh no. Birds, my darlings, birds. More specifically, pidgeons. Perhaps it was intended as a jest, to have pink pidgeons in cages above the table. Perhaps our dear lady didn’t realize the hazards of such a placement? As one who tasted the soup prior to the  _ incident _ , I am assuming it could only have been improved by the addition of a last minute ingredient.

As for assaults on things other than eyes, it was quite an exciting evening. Once the first bird decreased its weight, the others took it as a signal to do the same. Poor Miss Bouffon, for the things that will need to be washed from her hair. Young Lord Doucy, who had the misfortune to be looking up.

Alas, young men can be hotheaded, as we are all aware, and need some sort of outlet. Especially when faced with the desecration of an heirloom mask, they tend to shout things like “En Garde” and “For my family’s honor” while brandishing flimsy rapiers about. Which has its place, I’m sure, but the middle of a dinner party is not, perhaps, the best location to be doing so. The addition of wine likely addled the boy’s brain, for who, indeed, declares war upon pidgeons?

Indeed, I would assume young Miss Fernande came to this conclusion when the tip of his rapier contacted the delicate Antivan lace of her sleeve. That, alone, may have been excused, but dear readers, the young lord may have been a bit  _ forceful  _ in his brandishing. The poor girl will have to see Chantry healers to minimize the scarring.

I’m sure that the evening’s festivities had nothing to do with the anonymous duel seen the next morning as the mists rose. It is purely coincidence that Miss Fernande happens to have a noble chevalier brother. Similarly, it is likely chance that found an unnamed chevalier drawing on an aristocrat wearing powder blue. It is entirely unlikely that one Chevalier Fernande striped Lord Doucy’s cheek with his Grenadier a Cheval de la Garde, cutting right through the burnished silver of his mask. From what I heard from a local bard, there is little chance that the anonymous young lord will escape without at least some small disfigurement.

Lady Wiscotte has not shown her mask for the three days since the disastrous event. I think it safe to assume that the weekly parties are suspended until her reputation recovers.

Until next time, from the desk of Lady Lotte


End file.
